


Surely you're happy

by dezemberzarin



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Angst and Porn, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-31
Updated: 2015-05-31
Packaged: 2018-04-02 04:23:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4045777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dezemberzarin/pseuds/dezemberzarin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mario is wearing jeans and a button down when he opens the door, carefully styled and so obviously looking to still go out, despite the fact that it’s almost two am. His eyebrows nearly rise to his hairline when he spots Marco. “Happy birthday.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surely you're happy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [noos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/noos/gifts).



> This was meant to cheer Reina up, which doesn't explain why it turned out so angsty, or why it has such a different tone from the way I usually write these two. For anyone wondering about IL, I'm well into the final part, but it's turned into such a monstrosity length-wise that it will still take me a while.

Mario is wearing jeans and a button down when he opens the door, carefully styled and so obviously looking to still go out, despite the fact that it’s almost two am. His eyebrows nearly rise to his hairline when he spots Marco. “Happy birthday.” 

“Shut up,” Marco snaps, putting a hand onto Mario’s chest and pushing at him until he steps back and allows Marco into his apartment, only moving far enough so the door can fall shut behind them. 

Mario grins at him, hard and without pity. “Make me.” 

Marco knows he’s being taunted, knows Mario is deliberately pushing his buttons and yet he can’t help but react exactly the way Mario wants him to, crowding him up against the wall until Mario has to tip up his head to still be able to meet Marco’s eyes. He raises his hands, maybe to grab onto Marco or to push him away. Marco doesn’t wait to find out, grabs Mario’s wrists instead and presses them against the wall next to his head, lacing their fingers together. 

The kiss is aggressive, too much teeth and tongue involved to call it anything but a fight as Marco struggles to regain control. Mario gives as good as he gets, biting down hard on Marco’s bottom lip at one point, swiping his tongue across the mark in a mockery of an apology right afterwards before doing it again. He tastes like toothpaste and smells of expensive cologne and he’s so obviously prepared to meet someone else that it makes Marco’s blood boil, despite the fact that they haven’t been exclusive for almost two years now. 

When he starts undoing Mario’s jeans, he pulls back, his face flushed and eyes bright as he regards Marco. “I have to make a call.” 

“Text,” Marco says curtly, undoing the last button on Mario’s jeans and pulling down the zipper. “And you better make it quick, because I’m not stopping.” 

Mario barely finishes typing before Marco gets his mouth around his cock, running the tip of his tongue over that cluster of nerves that has Mario go weak-kneed every time. He sucks him until Mario is hard and gasping, keeping his hands on Mario’s hips so he can’t buck into Marco’s mouth, can’t get the relief he craves. Mario’s pupils are blown wide when Marco gets up to give him another hard kiss, stroking him easily with one hand until Mario sags into him like his strings have been cut. 

“Pick a spot,” Marco says and fuck, he’s starting to enjoy this, his own dick rock hard and straining against the sweat pants he still hasn’t changed out of, the BVB crest rubbing against his wrist as he reaches down to adjust himself. “Because either way, I’m bending you over something tonight.” 

Mario’s snort makes clear what he thinks of that idea, but the eagerness with which he leads Marco into his living room belies his derision and he goes readily enough when Marco pushes him over the back of the couch, kicking his legs apart further and pulling down his jeans until his ass is bared. The travel size package of lube has grown warm from where it’s been sitting in his pocket during the flight and Mario moans quietly when Marco slides his fingers into him, twisting them, because he wants to hear it again. 

The condom is next and then Marco is sliding his cock against Mario, pushing inside just barely and stopping with his hands gripping Mario’s hips to keep him from moving. “Ask me nicely.” 

“Oh, you asshole,” Mario groans, trying to push back against Marco and failing miserably. “Come on, just _fuck_ me.”

Marco laughs into the back of his neck, mouthing against the too hot skin there. “You know what I want to hear.” 

Mario curses, but gives in. He always does. “Please. Please fuck me, stop teasing, just fuck me, Marco, pretty fucking please-“ 

Marco cuts him off by pushing inside, muttering his own curse at the sudden tight heat and the feel of Mario squirming beneath him. No matter how many times they do this, his breath catches in his chest every single time, makes it hard to concentrate on easing back and sliding back into Mario. This time he rolls his hips instead of pulling back and when Mario gasps, Marco makes a satisfied noise, starting to thrust at the angle he just discovered. 

Mario is trying to protest, but Marco doesn’t give him time or air, sliding against his sweet spot with every push of his hips until Mario is spilling without even being touched, cursing Marco even as he comes. “You- fucking asshole, know I fucking hate it when you-“ 

Marco ignores him, sliding a hand underneath Mario to grasp his softening cock, stroking it gently in time with his thrusts. Mario whimpers and tries to move back his hips, but all that does is allow Marco to slide deeper into him and the gasp it tears from Mario makes Marco chuckle breathlessly, kissing the side of his neck as he matches the rhythm of his hand to his hips. He fucks Mario rough and fast now, assured that the orgasm will have relaxed him enough to be able to take it. He hits the edge sooner than he wants to and buries himself deep once again, pulling Mario back against his chest as he comes. 

He stays that way and rides out his orgasm, Mario for once being cooperative as he stops his squirming, waiting for Marco to come down from his high again. When he does and finds Mario has taken himself in hand, Marco smacks his fingers away, pushing himself deeper into Mario even as he feels his dick softening. “I was going to let you come in my mouth.” 

Mario whines and Marco slides his arms around his waist, taking a hold of his hands and twining their fingers together. “I could have jerked you off, too, but I don’t think you need it. I think you’ll come from the sound of my voice alone, just spurt all over yourself when I tell you to.”

Mario actually keens and Marco laughs, because it’s just too easy. It takes him less than two minutes of muttering filth into Mario’s ear until he jerks underneath Marco, hips twitching as he comes untouched, probably ruining the very expensive couch. Marco can’t bring himself to care as he kisses the back of Mario’s sweat-slick neck, the scent of his cologne dampened and giving way to something Marco finds much more appealing as he sucks on his skin. 

They settle into Mario’s bed afterwards, Marco resting his head against Mario’s chest so he can comb his fingers through Marco’s hair. It’s a while until either of them speaks and when it happens, Mario’s voice is carrying all the warmth it missed earlier. “Feeling better?”

Like he doesn’t know. Two years later and he’s still the only person who can read Marco like a well-loved book, gauging his mood and determining what he needs within seconds. But he indulged Marco tonight, allowing him to vent in his frustration and disappointment in the least harmful way possible. So Marco grabs his hand and presses a kiss to the inside of Mario’s wrist, a silent thank you Mario immediately understands as he runs his fingertips over the stubble on Marco’s jaw.

“You were good.” 

“I missed. Twice.” Marco feels better, but he’s still not in the mood to be coddled. 

“You did,” Mario acknowledges, undeterred as he caresses Marco’s features, stroking the line of his nose with one fingertip. “And you were offside. A lot.” 

“Mario,” Marco growls warningly and Mario laughs. 

“You were still good. Stop blaming yourself.”

There’s no reason this should make Marco feel any better and yet it does, of course it does. Isn’t this why he got onto a flight to Munich instead of Dortmund a few hours ago? The prospect of the comfort his family and friends would surely provide paling in comparison with the opportunity to see Mario again. The certainty that Mario would ease his disappointment, despite the fact that he’s the last person who should be able to. 

Marco looks at Mario, who will be four years younger than him for the next three days and thinks of all the ways he’s already surpassed him. Seven titles and one golden goal. Marco should hate him really. He certainly tried to right after losing him to Munich. Mario simply waited him out though, with a patience that could have driven better men to surrender. And surrendered Marco had. Allowed Mario back into his heart, his arms, his bed. There was little point in fighting it anyway. 

The inevitability of the two of them used to scare Marco, the thought of his future being fixed in a way no amount of distance or even other lovers could undo, unsettling instead of reassuring. It’s different these days. With everything else in flux around him, Mario has become the North Star in Marco’s life, the one thing he can come back to at any time to be guided back to himself. 

It’s going to be the two of them together again after all is said and done, even though neither of their lives makes it possible for that to happen right now. Marco isn’t worried though. It will eventually. In the meantime everything else can fall away or go to hell for all he cares. His club will evolve, teammates leave and even Kloppo will move on. Marco’s body might never be able to consistently perform at the top level the way it used to. He might never win a title for the rest of his career. But at the end of it all, he’ll still have Mario. 

~

**Author's Note:**

> Any feedback is appreciated <3


End file.
